Mail
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Postcards and letters and a little escape.
1. Chapter 1

**_For Indiefran and crazysusan :) xx_**

* * *

"We've got mail!"

Christian looked up, a piece of toast held half way to his mouth, and flashed Syed a huge smile.

"Morning sunshine!"

He took a bite and mumbled through a mouthful;

"I hope you remembered to kiss me before you left."

Syed dumped down his jacket and flicked through the pile of letters in his hand.

"Of course, I always do. You rolled over and muttered something filthy, which I might take you up on later. Phone bill, electricity bill, gas bill, leaflet for mobility scooters, that's yours. Ugh.."

He grimaced and gingerly separated the brown envelope from the rest, holding the edges carefully, as if it were smeared with something unpleasant.

"…Inland Revenue."

Flicking it towards Christian, it flew through the air and skittered across the table.

"Don't give it to me!" Christian recoiled in horror. "I don't want the bloody thing. Shall we pretend we can't see it?"

Syed laughed and nodded.

"Good plan. Ooh! We've got a postcard from Michael!"

Seeing Syed's delighted expression, Christian rolled his eyes and pushed his plate away with a petulant prod.

"Oh have we now. What joy."

Syed placed the pile of post onto the back of the sofa and flipped over the card.

"Now, now. It's got a picture of the leaning tower of Pisa on the front." Snorting with laughter, he read Michael's message.

"He says it's a picture of his cock."

Christian scowled and pushed his chair back. He began to noisily clear away his breakfast things.

"He wishes. I thought he was meant to be in Naples?"

Syed continued to scan the words, trying to decipher Michael's spidery scrawl, eyes bright with amusement.

"He was, but he's having a quick break before he goes on to another job in L.A."

Christian made his own ears ring as he tetchily clattered a plate into the sink.

'Bully for him' He mouthed sourly, grabbing an orange juice carton from the fridge and splashily filling a glass.

He stood behind Syed, taking a large swig, and glanced briefly at the card over his shoulder.

"Lucky bastard. I see he thinks he's in love with an Italian waiter. Suppose he reminds him of you."

Christian turned and clanked his glass down heavily, bending to lift his bag.

His arms flexed under the weight as he heaved it onto his shoulders, and Syed watched the movement, enchanted by the smooth ripple of muscle and sinew.

"Ha! That's where you're wrong. He says Dario is six foot three and ripped to buggery. So it would seem you oiling him with your dubious charms in the Vic has turned him to the dark side.."

Christian couldn't help the smug swell of his chest.

"Well it worked on you. I wonder if your Dad enjoyed reading the card when he delivered it? Cocks and buggery, I bet he nearly had an aneurysm.."

Syed jumped up hastily and went to prop the card on the mantle piece, trying unsuccessfully to hide his crestfallen face from Christian.

"Hey, Sy? What's up? I was only messing…"

"I know, I know. It's just I saw him this morning on my way back from Mosque. All big smiles and jolly banter with people in the square. Masood, our friendly local postie, do anything for anyone, pillar of the community, upstanding head of his family. Takes one look at me and I could feel the gardens freezing over and hear the swish of knives as they hurtled towards my head."

He slumped disconsolately onto the sofa, head bowed and hands dangling between his knees.

Christian threw down his bag and rushed to sit beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Baby, I wish there was something I could do, talk to him.."

"You think that would help? He'd only hit you. Again. And Mum, yesterday I bumped into her in the market with Kamil. I tried to look in the pushchair, get a glimpse of my baby brother, and she turned it away. Almost tipped it over in her haste to get away from her cursed son. Kamil hardly knows me, I only get to see him if Tambo can sneak him out…"

Christian squeezed him closer wanting to absorb all his pain, unable to help the twist of guilt he felt at Syed's sacrifice, the family he'd lost for love.

Syed sniffed and brushed his hand across his eyes.

"Poor Tambo, complicit in dishonesty.. Ignore me, I'm sorry, I feel a bit down at the moment."

"Is there nothing you could do, say, to make them feel differently? Those forums you've looked at, has anyone there found a way of reconciling with their families?"

"Occasionally, usually because of some sort of crisis, illness or death. But it's always an uneasy truce, they can rarely truly be themselves."

Christian picked up one of Syed's hands and kissed the palm.

"Would talking to Zahida help? She seems to have made some headway with her mum and dad.."

" She hasn't come out as gay though, marrying Barry is mild in comparison. Plus I think her having the kids has helped, Granny couldn't resist interfering…"

"Well then, you never know, if…"

They sat in silence for a while, Christian trying to transmit silent strength and comfort. Suddenly, Syed patted Christian's thigh.

"It's alright Christian. I've got you, you're my family now. I chose you."

"And you don't regret it? I mean, I know I can be a right twat sometimes, you don't wish.."

"Oh shut up. Not be with you? Live a lie? I was dying inside. I'm tired and I'm maudlin. Wish we could have a holiday. This years going to be pretty full on if all our plans work out, I fancy a weekend away."

Christian raised one eyebrow and laughed.

"Well as long as you don't want to go to Pisa or L.A.."

Syed poked him in the ribs.

"Nooo, for the eight millionth time. I think you're the one fixated."

"I like hearing you say you love me best."

"I love you best. I want a break for the two of us, no one meddling, no other people's dramas. You and me."

"Then that's what we'll do. I'll get some brochures when I'm out, you have a look on the internet.."

Christian made to stand and Syed stayed him a hand on his arm, leaning across to lick his chin.

"Marmalade.."

As Syed moved away, Christian ducked his head and quickly caught his mouth with his own, murmuring through a kiss;

"And when I get back you can help me remember what the filthy thing was…"


	2. Chapter 2

The pile of holiday brochures began to slip from under Christian's arm and he paused to gather them back up, trying to balance them on the top of his holdall.

A breeze was gently blowing through the gardens, bringing with it a scent of petrol fumes and what he hoped maybe a hint of Spring, but suspected was probably Ina's flower stall.

Small green spikes were pushing bravely through the damp brown soil and he felt cheered at the prospect of warmth to come.

'Very soon for us.' He chuckled to himself as he caught sight of the photograph on the front of one of his brochures, a handsome young man reclining insouciantly on a vivid yellow beach, his smile incredibly wide and his swimming trunks impossibly small.

He quickened his pace, keen to get home and look through the options with Syed. As he neared the Queen Victoria he saw Masood emerge, laughing loudly and being patted on the back by Max.

Christian felt his hackles rise, a stiffening of the muscles in his back, a taste of bile deep in his throat. The temptation to march up to him, tell him how his son was suffering, tell him he was a hypocrite, burned in Christian's chest.

But he knew it would do no good and that Syed would not thank him for it. As he passed he nodded in return to Max's greeting and let his gaze slide coldly above Masood's head.

Feeling childish and ineffectual, he allowed himself to think;

'Ha! Take that Masood, bet that hurts. Your son's gay lover ignoring you in the street…'

He shifted his pile of brochures surreptitiously, trying to push the one that read;

'Thrust! Gay Friendly Holidays!' higher up for Masood to see.

But Masood stepped off the kerb in front of him without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

Christian vaulted over the back of the sofa and slid down beside Syed, almost knocking the laptop from his hand.

"Oi! Careful you big oaf! Good day?"

Christian proudly waved the brochures in the air and proceeded to spread them across the coffee table.

"Awesome! And look what I've got.."

Syed eyes widened.

"What isn't that man wearing?"

"Tiny trunks, the skimpiest. Skimpy is good."

"That's a horrible word Christian, it makes my teeth feel funny, like 'panties'"

Christian laughed and began to flick through the pages.

"Sitges, Barcelona, some of the complexes have nudist beaches.."

"No, Christian, just no. And what's this travel company called? 'CruiseFabGay'? 'Homme'? And this one? 'Thrust! Gay friendly holidays.' Why do we need to go on a gay friendly holiday?"

Christian sighed indulgently.

"If we wanted to go on a gay unfriendly holiday we could squat at your parent's house for the weekend."

"Funny. No, really, why can't we just be people, a couple, doing what couples do?"

Christian stroked Syed's hair.

"You're completely right, of course, clever thing. Proper normal. I suppose some of these might be more suited to pulling and hedonism. We might feel more relaxed though, and at least we wouldn't have to put up with any homophobia."

Syed frowned, genuinely bemused.

"We wouldn't put up with homophobia anyway."

"Except maybe from your Mum and Dad.." Christian immediately bit his lip as he saw a shadow flit across Syed's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." He put his arm across Syed's shoulders. "..have you found anywhere you'd like to go?"

Syed looked at the computer screen, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I have, but I'm not sure.."

"Oooh, where? I got some sunscreen while I was out, new pair of shades. Actually, looking at matey on the cover, reminds me, I might need some new skimpy panties.."

He laughed as Syed shuddered.

".. is it Spain? Greece? Miami? Did you book it?"

"I got a really good deal. We fly tomorrow afternoon, four star hotel, transfers to and from the airport.."

Christian squeezed him tight, thoroughly over excited.

"Ibiza? Mallorca? Fuengirola? Tell me, I'm going to explode!"

Syed turned and studied Christian's face, wincing slightly, preparing himself for an onslaught.

"Iceland."


	3. Chapter 3

Syed carefully moved the laptop to the side of him, balancing it on the sofa out of harms way. He waited, a picture of patient calm, watching Christian begin to fizz and splutter like a newly lit firework.

"ICELAND? You're joking, right? You mean the shop, you bought a…"

Syed blinked twice and set to tidying up the discarded brochures, answering in a soothing tone.

"No, I didn't buy a Pretty King Prawn Ring, and please don't start on about Kerry Katona. I thought we'd enjoy it. It looks interesting, different.."

Christian snatched the brochure that Syed was trying to line up neatly against the edge of the coffee table. The man on the cover beamed up at him, his smile now appearing arrogant and smug. Christian growled at him in exasperation and then did the same to Syed.

"Interesting and different? Fucking freezing, that's what it looks like. Haven't you had enough of snow yet? You've made a snowman, a snowbear, a snowcock…"

"It was a snowcat, the ears fell off.." Syed cut in.

"Whatever. Even you started whingeing after the second lot. Why on earth pay money to get snowed on some more? What possessed you?"

Syed stayed silent for a moment, slightly concerned by the pulse throbbing in Christian's temple, knowing it to be a warning sign that he was on the brink of erupting. He picked up a cushion and began to pull at a loose thread on the seam.

"I wanted us both to have a new experience together. Go somewhere you hadn't been with anyone else, and it was such a good deal…"

Christian jumped up and began to pace around the room, aware he was working himself up into an unreasoned frenzy, but unable to stop.

"There's a fair few tropical islands I've never visited. You know, places with sunshine, sand, sea. Why couldn't you wait to ask me if I wanted to go? Instead you waste our money on a nice trip to the frozen wastes. I could stand in the square in my vest for free if I want that kind of experience…"

"It was a really good deal.." Syed could hear his own voice rising in volume, knowing instantly that repeating the fact wasn't going to help.

"Yeah, you said." Christian responded in a withering tone, "over and over again. I don't fucking care if it was only a quid. Surely it would have lasted, still been available, until you'd talked to me about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe? My finger sort of slipped and before I knew it, I'd booked it…"

"Slipped?" Christian shouted. "Slipped? What, over and over again spelling out our names? Mysteriously tapping out our sixteen digit card number? Expiry date? Three digit security code that, as they so helpfully keep informing us, can be found on the signature strip to the reverse of the card? You should have called me, texted, something…"

Syed's irritation was boiling over to anger, and Christian's constant pacing had started to make him feel dizzy.

"Because I knew you'd say no." He yelled. "And because I want to go there, get away from this bloody square for a few days. For fucks sake stand still, you're being a prick."

Christian halted dead in his tracks and curled his lip, preparing a retort but Syed carried on in full spate.

"I haven't booked us into an ice hotel in Antarctica, a tent in Siberia. It's Reykjavik, a vibrant modern city. It's got bars, restaurants, clubs. All YOUR favourite things…"

"It hasn't got a fucking beach though…" Christian dodged the cushion that Syed had lobbed at his head.

"It fucking has.."

"Made of fucking lava.."

"Oh don't fucking come then. I'll go on my own. Preferable to you trailing along moaning, like a big muscley five year old with a miserable smacked arse face.."

"Good! Enjoy!"

"I will! You can fuck off to 'Wank' resort or 'Gristle tours'…"

Syed snatched up the brochure and waved the picture of the smiling man at Christian.

"See if he's there. You can rub oil on each other and fry 'til you turn into wizened prunes.."

"I bought sunscreen!"

"What factor? A half? Sod off and sizzle with your new mates for all I care! A load of battered sausages on beachmats.."

"Yeah, well, don't get frostbite, hope you meet a nice penguin!"

"There aren't any penguins in Iceland, you cock!"

Neither of them paid any attention to the sound of Ian bashing on the ceiling of the chippy below.

"Someone with a nice big beard and an oily jumper then!" raged Christian, stepping inches away from where Syed was seated, towering over him.

Syed jumped up.

"A big ginger beard. Except that's your thing, isn't it Christian? Big ginger beards give you the right horn, send you fucking mad with desire…"

He lifted his hands to push Christian's, wanting him out of his way, to enable him to be the first to storm out. But Christian lunged and grabbed his wrists, forcing him backwards, sending him sprawling down onto the sofa, tumbling after him to lay heavily along the full length of his body.

Chests heaving together, mouths inches away from each other, Christian breathed;

"No, they don't. Nothing does but you…."

* * *

Syed loosened his grip slightly and pulled away. He saw the passion glittering in Christian's narrowed eyes and smiled beatifically.

"You're coming then?"

Christian groaned and arched his back.

"Sy, nearly.. Don't stop…"

"To Iceland?" His hand tightened.

"Fuck, yes, anywhere, the ends of the earth.. Sy…"


	4. Chapter 4

His dream about a troupe of performing kittens had definitely ended, so Christian couldn't understand where the noise of singing and hissing could possibly be coming from.

Sleepily he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow beside him, happily breathing in the familiar scent left behind by Syed's hair and skin.

He slowly worked out that the former sound was Syed, wanting to be made to feel like he was the only girl in the world, and by groggily opening one eye and tracing a plume of steam as it billowed up to the ceiling, that the latter was coming from the iron.

"Extreme.." He mumbled, then, rolling onto his back, "Ow!"

Syed immediately stopped ironing and hurried over to the bedside, his forehead furrowed with concern.

"I'm so sorry, I scratched you really badly. Do you want me to rub something on it?"

Christian chuckled dirtily.

"Again? Don't worry tiger, I'll cut your nails later."

He reached out his hand, smoothing away the worry line on Syed's forehead with his thumb.

"I'm sorry too, I behaved like a spoilt brat. This is your break, I'm happy to do whatever you want."

Syed leant down to kiss him.

"Hmm, we'll have to see how long that lasts. We had a good night though, didn't we?"

"The very best…"

Christian's stomach growled alarmingly.

"…I'm starving. We seem to have been so busy we forgot about dinner."

"When I've finished packing I'll nip out and get something from the café."

Christian swung his legs out of bed and loped over to the mirror, twisting round to examine the long red marks down his back.

"My, there's evidence of a good time had by all!" He laughed, adding;

"You carry on, I'll go. Do you want the usual?"

He pulled up his jeans and retrieved his hoody from under the sofa.

Syed carefully folded the shirt he had been ironing and placed it into a suitcase, squashing it down to make it fit, wryly realising he was pushing more creases in.

"Please. Make sure she gives you a crusty roll, not one of those damp soft ones. I swear Ian soaks stale bread to make it seem fresh."

"Probably gets people to suck it. That sounds dirty, I meant the bread.. Ugh, nasty mental picture.." Christian paused thoughtfully in the doorway, rattling the change in his pocket.

"Have we got Kagouls?" He asked randomly.

"Eh?"

"And big boots, we'll need them.."

Syed pointed at the overflowing cases.

"I've got them out, and I packed you four jumpers. If you need anymore I'll buy you an oily one when we get there. Or I would, if only I knew what you were on about. Are they a figment of your imagination?"

"Could be. I met a Swedish bloke at a bus stop once, he had a big knitted woolly cardigan and it felt as if it was covered in some sort of sheep wax. The memory's stayed with me for some reason. Can't for the life of me remember what he looked like…"

"I'm not sure I needed to know that.." Syed attempted, without success, to close the lid of the overflowing case.

"…don't get chatting to anyone, we need to leave in an hour."

* * *

They bumped the cases down the stairs and out onto the pavement. Syed got his stuck on the doorstep and Christian grabbed it, manfully hoisting it over the threshold with ease.

"Puny." He teased.

Syed responded by sticking out his tongue.

"Brainless beefcake."

He pulled up the retractable handle and took a step to leave, stopping suddenly at the sight of two familiar figures.

His brother and mother were crossing the road towards them, both resplendent in striped aprons and Masala Queen protective hats.

He spotted Tamwar's face scrunch suddenly in alarm at the sight of all their cases, and felt his legs twitch with an impulse to run across, reassure him that, despite the size and number, they were only going away for a little while. That he wasn't doing another flit, wasn't disappearing off the radar, that he would be back to support his brother through anything their parents decided to throw at him.

As he tried to convey all of this in one look, he saw Zainab's gimlet eyes rake across the luggage and tried to fathom what she might be feeling, if anything. If she, too, felt a stir of panic that she may never see him again, or just joyful relief.

But he discerned nothing in her cold glance, and she grabbed Tamwar's arm forcibly and steered him away.

Christian gently laid his hand on Syed's shoulder.

"Text him. Tell him we'll be back soon."

* * *

"Oh go on, show me!"

Christian stuck out his lower lip petulantly and grunted;

"No."

The queue ahead of them moved a little and they shuffled forward.

"Please.."

Christian sighed and handed over his passport.

"I'm not waiting while you sort through the cases for a clean pair of pants after you've pissed yourself laughing…"

Syed took one look at the photograph and began to shake with mirth.

Christian pouted at him.

"I really don't understand why you always find it so funny."

Syed gasped for breath and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Ha Ha! Neither do I, but I do. Probably because you look so much like you're posing to be Mr. Gay Universe.."

"Perhaps I could have been.."

Christian prised the passport from Syed's fingers and smiled at him indulgently, happy to see him so amused.

"Show us yours then, Mr. Bollywood romantic lead."

Christian looked lovingly at Syed's passport picture.

"Aw, you look so young, so dashing. I wish we had more photo's of you in your youth, especially that one of you in the cricket team…"

The grin swiftly vanished from Syed's face.

"I should imagine they all got burnt in a bin."

"But there'd be negatives, wouldn't there? Surely no one could be that harsh…"

"You'd think. But then I'm eradicated, obliterated.."

Syed stared stonily up at the departures board and Christian sensed that the subject needed to be changed, for now. Flamboyantly, he began to pull a long length of pink ribbon from his jacket pocket.

Syed couldn't quite stop the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he groaned:

"Please, no! Not the big gay bow!"


	5. Chapter 5

Syed pressed himself back as Christian leant across him to peer out of the window.

The clearest blue sky above a dazzling expanse of white made him narrow his eyes.

"So much nothing!" He marvelled.

"You're squashing me!" Syed wriggled in his seat. "I'm looking forward to being able to move my arms."

Christian grinned apologetically.

"I'd like to be able to move my legs too. We should have tried harder to get an upgrade.."

"They were never going to buy your plan of telling them I was pregnant."

The plane dipped, preparing for it's descent and Christian took Syed's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"If we go, we go together!"

"Lovely, but that doesn't help…"

Syed's palms began to sweat with nerves. The snow covered lava plains rushed up to greet them, and he sighed with relief, relaxing his grip when the runway came into view and the plane bumped down and slowed.

They both surveyed the red marks on Christian hands.

"Oops. I did it again.." Syed said apologetically.

"I don't mind. But I'm definitely cutting those nails when we get to the hotel. I wonder what the Icelandic is for nail scissors?"

"Hvar eru salernin"

Christian's eyes widened with admiration.

" Really? That sounds sexy. Say it again."

Syed obliged and then confessed.

"Except I'm lying, that means 'where are the toilets.' I'm sure everyone will speak better English than we do anyway. Come on, the lights gone off, we can unfasten our seat belts."

* * *

Syed scowled at the pink bow as they trundled their cases through the clean modern architecture of Keflavik airport.

"You can take that off now."

Christian obligingly undid it with a single pull and stowed the ribbon back into his pocket.

"Look! There's a man with a beard and an oily jumper, holding a placard with our name on it!"

Syed pointed excitedly.

"Clarke Masood. Seeing that will never get old."

Their driver, a handsome man in late fifties, eyes as blue as the sky and hair as white as the snow, introduced himself as Petur. He manfully loaded up the cases into the boot of his Mercedes, eyes twinkling with friendliness.

"So many cases! Your stay is long?"

Syed decided not to confess that they were only in the country for four days, but that his boyfriend was quite high maintenance, and answered politely;

"Quite long."

They settled themselves into the leather seats and began the long drive to the city. Syed gazed out of the window as the scenery flashed by, the pureness and space making his heart lift.

Christian had engaged in a conversation with Petur, firing questions at him about his family and home life which the man was politely and shyly responding to without giving too much away.

'He'll wear you down..' Mused Syed fondly, marvelling at Christian's ability to find some common ground with anyone he met.

"So your brother runs a clothes shop? Is your jumper from there?"

Christian had leant through the gap between the front seats, squashing Syed again.

"Yes. It is a traditional Icelandic design. My brother stocks many in his shop. I will give you my card, he can give you a discount!"

"Brilliant! Is it Icelandic wool? Can I feel it?"

Syed made use of one of his fingernails again by digging it firmly into Christian's thigh.

Unabashed, Christian stroked Petur's arm.

"Lovely and soft!" He declared, turning slightly to wink at Syed. "Not oily at all!"

* * *

Outside the majestic façade of the Hotel Borg, they shook hands warmly with Petur. thanking him for all his advice on the best places to eat and shop in the city, and waved him off.

Syed inhaled deeply, the cold air tingling inside his sinuses.

"Smell how fresh it is Christian! No rotting vegetables, no diesel fumes, no chip fat…"

"It smells of snow. And it's effing freezing. Let's get inside.."

* * *

Christian strolled confidently across to the reception desk, the rubber soles of his boots thudding dully on the grand marble floor.

Syed, sitting on one of their cases, watched him flirt. The young male receptionist had impossibly high cheekbones and deep set grey eyes, he was fiddling coquettishly with one of his blonde curls, powerless under the onslaught of Christian's charm.

Christian returned, rattling the room key.

"I'm surprised you didn't need to stroke his suit, see if it was oily.." Syed snapped. "Or lick him."

Christian laughed, unabashed.

"You're the only one I want to lick. I got us a better room. Alfur said he'd send someone up with the cases, and some nail scissors."

Ooh, Alfur!"

Syed wrinkled his nose in disgust, mimicking Christian's familiarity with the man's name.

Christian took his hand and pulled him up.

"You're just a jealous Sy!" He sang, adding;

"I'm going to give you a big old snog in the lift, remind you who has my heart…"

They missed their floor twice, but eventually spilled laughing into their hotel room.

Christian gave a low whistle.

"Sy, this is nice…"

The long room was dominated by a large double bed, high leather headboard, piled with white and biscuit coloured pillows. Two cream and chrome armchairs pointed towards a large plasma television. Heavy coffee coloured curtains hung at two long windows and art deco lights glittered across the dark wood surfaces.

Syed stuck his head around the en suite door.

"You should see this…"

Christian joined him and shrieked with delight.

"Double sinks! His and his! A bath! Sy, we've got a great big metal bath! Marble tiles, free soaps, dressing gowns! I love Iceland, me!"

He ran around the room like an overexcited child, switching the lights on and off, opening and closing cupboard doors.

"A mini bar! With a funny spirit in it, Brennivin.." He unscrewed the top of the miniature bottle and downed it in one, grimacing and clutching his throat.

"It's also known as Black Death." Syed informed him helpfully.

"Ack." Croaked Christian "I might go blind. How do you know? Have you been doing research? When did you have the time?"

Syed lounged in one of the armchairs and nodded.

"You know me, always like to be prepared, and I might have read up a bit about it on the internet before I booked it.."

Christian gulped down a glass of water, trying to soothe the burning in his gullet.

"Ha! So your finger didn't slip! I knew it!"

"Course it didn't. I like things planned.."

Christian squatted beside him and ruffled his hair.

"Not like me. Bull in a china shop, me.."

"But a prize one, sleek and prime and the best in show.."

"Thank you, I think. So what have you got planned for us then?"

Syed dragged Christian down to sit across his lap.

"A nice meal here tonight, and tomorrow the Golden …"

Christian nestled his head on Syed's shoulder and yawned, sleepily interrupting;

"Showers?"

"Circle. So help me, I'm taking you on a coach trip…"


	6. Chapter 6

As Christian stepped down from the coach, Syed checked again that he didn't look too bored. He had patiently endured being shown a geothermal hothouse containing twenty banana trees, but only one banana, managed to have stifled his yawns as their tour guide droned on about tectonic plates, and had somehow befriended two elderly ladies, Marge and Vi.

Christian stood slightly apart from the rest of the group, sunglasses protecting his eyes from the bright sun, hands thrust deep in his pockets for warmth, unshaven and slightly hungover.

He had declared the wine he had ordered with their meal at the hotel, the nicest he had ever drunk, seemingly using this an excuse to polish off the whole bottle with alarming speed before moving onto brandy.

'The mini bar's empty too.' Thought Syed ruefully.

It had taken a superhuman effort to drag Christian out of their comfortable bed that morning, and he had wallowed sulkily in the bath for ages, demanding that Syed join him.

Outlined against the stark white snow, Christian, still as a statue, gazed at the magnificent towering waterfall.

He looked so impossibly handsome that Syed's heart lurched, almost unbalancing him with pride and love. Taking his camera surreptitiously out of his bag, Syed snapped the moment, knowing it would be a photograph he would treasure forever.

Above the rush of the falling water, the chatter of the other people on the tour, he heard a small cracked voice at his side.

"Is he yours, dearie?"

Syed looked down into Marge's soft lined face.

"Yes, yes. He's mine.." Syed longed to shout it, send it echoing around the ravine, cause a landslide.

"Aren't you the lucky one!" She scrutinised him with merry, faded eyes. "Mind you, so is he! Shall I take a picture of the two of you together?"

"Yes, please. I'd like that."

They trudged through the deep snow, Syed helping Marge when she floundered, her bright pink Wellingtons, incongruously girlish for a septuagenarian, squeaking and flapping.

"I bet you're feeling the cold, dearie.."

Syed considered the statement with surprise.

"…being from warmer climes."

"What? Oh, no, I live in the East End of London…"

"You'll be used to it by now, then."

She smiled kindly and held out her hand for the camera.

Syed passed it over, bemused by her strange mixture of tolerance and preconception.

"Christian!" She trilled, "I'm going to take a picture of you and your lovely gentleman friend."

"Aw, cheers Marge!"

Christian touched her elbow with gratitude and flung his arm across Syed's shoulders. Whipping off his shades and beaming broadly, he posed for a photo to put in a frame, a memory for a mantle piece.

Christian and Syed plodded to the edge of the ravine, holding on to each other for dear life, wary of plunging down into the icy torrents far below, so difficult was it to see where the ground ended and space began.

"This is amazing, Sy."

"You're enjoying yourself?"

"Don't sound so shocked. All this space and beauty, it clears the mind. I could do without the banging headache, but I suppose I've only got myself to blame for that, got a bit over excited. Was I really unbearable?"

Christian gave a half smile, boyishly bashful.

"You were telling me a lot of rather lovely things and then you tried to do a lot of rather lovely things to me.."

"And then I fell asleep." Christian blushed and looked hangdog.

He felt for Syed's hand, putting it in his pocket with his own.

"I'll make it up to you. Is all this helping? Do you feel less beaten down?"

Syed wished the sadness he felt about his family could be washed away in the rampaging waters or be buried under the vast mantle of snow. Instead, it niggled away in some dark space at the back of his mind, colouring everything he tried to do with a yellow tinge of sadness.

"A bit.." He replied, but Christian knew from his eyes that he still hadn't been able to leave it totally behind.

Marge and Vi were waving their arms wildly and beckoning them to return to the coach.

Syed nodded in their direction.

"Looks like we're off. It's spouting geysers next, and that's spouting geysers, not spurting geezers, try not to be too smutty in front of the ladies."

Christian chuckled.

"Racy old fag hags, those two. They love it."


	7. Chapter 7

"Food!"

Christian rubbed his hands together gleefully and pulled back a chair.

Glancing around the almost empty Café Z, he nodded his approval at the décor.

Big squashy sofa's lined the room, piled high with magazines, a few dining tables on what, he suspected, doubled by night as a dance floor, a small bar in the corner.

"It's nice here…" He commented, whipping the cardboard menu from it's holder.

"I fancy soup, soup for a polar explorer. I thought I coped quite well with the spurting geezers!"

Syed gave him a look.

"Hmm. I heard you with Marge and Vi, saying mine went higher. You shouldn't have made them laugh so much, you might have given them a stroke."

Christian pulled a face.

"No chance of that. I liked them though. Can we adopt them as our grannies?"

"We'd have a houseful if you had your way, and muggins here would have to do all the clearing up after them."

"I'm sure they're housetrained. What are you having?"

A very pretty young waitress with cropped hair and an elfin face hovered patiently beside their table, notebook and pen poised.

"I'll have soup too."

Syed had a strange sensation that he was being watched, from the corner of his eye he could see two figures at the bar staring in his direction.

"Christian.." He hissed; "Don't turn around, but are we being checked out?"

Christian immediately spun round in his chair and eyed up the two young men. Both tall, both beautiful, one with spiky white blonde hair, the other with the same hairstyle but dyed a vivid red.

"Is there no one ugly in this city? We're not being checked out Sy, you are. By twins. You lucky, lucky sod."

Syed wriggled with embarrassment, desperate to sneak a look, flattered, but also mortified by the attention.

The waitress returned with their meal, two large ovals of bread, hollowed out and filled with piping hot soup.

Christian thanked her and marvelled at the plate in front of him.

"Soup in bread! A bread bowl! Genius! How come it doesn't seep out? Jane should serve this in the Vic. Mmmm"

He took a mouthful, wincing as it burnt his tongue, opening his mouth to try and cool it down.

"Idiot." Syed blew on his spoonful cautiously.

"Are they still watching?"

"Intently. I don't think they've ever seen anything as delightful as you before. They have excellent taste. What they don't realise is that I might be forced to kill them if they come any nearer. Twins! Imagine!"

"I don't want to. I'm scared. They're so creepily identical.."

Christian laughed;

"No shit? I'll protect you. Where are you taking me this afternoon?"

"To the beach."

* * *

The long grey lava stretched out before them, the sky, now leaden, melded with the sea on the horizon. Fat flakes of snow had begun to fall, nestling, un melted, on their hair. A large black cliff rose starkly, pushing jaggedly out of the ocean, thronged with sea birds.

The grimness possessed a strange, unworldly beauty, and they both felt moved, unable to speak for a moment.

Christian broke the silence.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"Thank you for being here with me. I don't understand, why is this so affecting?"

Syed felt his eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, don't cry. It might freeze! Because it's so 'other'? Makes Walford, and all the goings on, the adultery, the murdering, just seem pointless…"

"Petty."

Christian picked up a smooth piece of rock from the beach and ran his finger over it.

"Look, Sy. A fossil. Life from years before the earth ever had a notion of us. Will you talk to me Sy? Properly?"

Syed took the stone from Christian's hand and turned it over, tracing the spindly grooves of the long dead sea creature.

"But you know, Christian. You know it all."

"I want to help you. Make it better.."

"You can't."

"If I.. Do you want me to leave, maybe, so you can reconcile…"

"NO!" Syed's cry startled the seabirds, sending them screeching away through the swirling flakes.

"No, never. I want it all, I want them to accept me as I am. Gay, Muslim and in love with you. I can cope with them hating me, just about. But to not have you? It would kill me…"

Christian scuffed his foot through the icy lava.

"You have to try and not let them get to you…"

He raised his hand as Syed tried to interrupt.

"…I realise that sounds trite. What I mean is, you made your choice to be with me, they've made their choice to treat you like shit…"

"So all I can do is get on with things?"

Syed's voice broke slightly.

"No, but it's their loss Syed. A life without you in it is awful, believe me. There has to come a time when they realise this, when they get over their pride, their morals.."

"It isn't that simple Christian. Their faith, their community, everything they believe with the whole core of their beings tells them that I am an abomination."

"It told you that too, and you don't believe it now?"

Syed leant his head against Christian's shoulder.

"No. How can love be wrong."

"And Zainab, she saved you from the fire. There is hope Syed, hold it in your heart. Keep reaching out, just don't let them taint your life. Be better than them, you are better than them."

"Reach out?"

"Write them a letter."


	8. Chapter 8

"Look at you!"

Christian pushed the knot of Syed's tie neatly against his shirt collar and gently spun him round to face the full length mirror.

"And you…."

"Thank heavens for the trouser press. What time is Petur coming?"

"Soon enough, so don't get any ideas about undoing all this preparation."

Christian pulled their coats from the wardrobe and pouted.

"Spoilsport. Where are we going?"

"The Pearl, it's a restaurant in a glass dome, built on top of the hot water tanks that supply the energy for Reykyavik. It's revolving."

Christian pulled a face.

"Revolting?"

"REVOLVING. Goes round and round. I swear you need your ears syringing, or a hearing aid.."

Christian grinned;

"A herring aid?" He asked innocently and jumped, laughing, out of the way of the finger aimed at his stomach.

The telephone beside their bed buzzed twice and cut off.

"He's here." Syed linked his arm through Christian's. "Come on handsome.."

* * *

Petur's cab climbed the hill away from the city, towards the Pearl. The glittering dome sat atop five grey cylinders, squatting eerily, glowing against the, now clear, starlit sky.

Syed shivered with delight. Christian could see his eyes gleaming in the darkness of the car as he turned towards him.

"It's beautiful!"

"And functional." Petur added, poised to inform them about geothermal energy, something he was rightly proud of. But it peeved Christian slightly, he didn't want any of Syed's fragile joy marred by talk of practicalities.

"So I understand," Christian said politely. "We'll walk up from here, thank you Petur."

Petur stopped the car smoothly at the side of the road and they climbed out, gasping as the cold night air chilled through their best clothes.

Setting off along the dark path, they used the looming building as a beacon to guide them.

* * *

In the foyer, Syed jumped as the artificial geyser spat water forcibly towards the high ceiling.

"You have that effect on me too." Christian giggled. He looked up at the bright lights above them, sighing contentedly at the sound of tinkling cutlery and the chink of glasses, inhaling a huge breath of delicious cooking.

"Lets go and watch the world go round."

* * *

"What is that?" Syed asked, pointing at Christian's plate with his fork.

"Delicious is what it is. Guillemot in a plum jus."

"Guillee what?"

Christian cut a piece off and held it out for Syed to try.

"It's a seabird…"

Syed grimaced, waving the forkful away.

"A seabird? Like a Seagull. Christian, you are eating a Seagull.."

"A bloody yummy Guillemot. This hasn't been eating sick out of the bins behind the Minute Mart."

Syed groaned.

"Ugh, shut up, you're putting me off my fish. That man with the Marimba's getting nearer…"

"That's because I slipped him some money to come and beat out 'The way you look tonight' just for you."

Christian almost choked on a mouthful of food, looking at Syed's distressed, embarrassed face. Knowing he was torn between loving the idea of the romantic gesture, and terror of the attention it would bring. He swiftly put him out of his misery.

"Haaaa! Got you! As if I'd do that to you.."

Syed aimed a kick at him under the table.

"I never know with you. Anyway, I might have liked it.."

Christian swiftly raised his hand to call over the man, now at the other side of the restaurant with his Marimba slung over one shoulder, his wooden mallet busily tapping out a jazzy version of 'Happy Birthday'.

"Christian…" Syed hissed at him, "…don't you dare. You can sing it to me later."

He looked out through the window, watching the bright sparkle of the city lights blur imperceptibly as the restaurant slowly turned.

"I shall never forget this. I wish I could tell.." Syed stopped himself abruptly and smiled across at Christian.

"…What shall we have for dessert? I fancy trying the Skyr thing."

* * *

"He's late, or we're early. Can't remember what time we said." Christian checked his watch and shook himself with the cold.

"Brrr. Shall we walk down the hill? Meet him on the way up?"

Syed nodded and followed behind as Christian strode purposefully away. He slipped slightly on the snowy grass and, sensing the movement, Christian turned swiftly to hold him up.

"Steady! What the f.." He pointed up at the sky.

White mist swirled above their heads, turning, flashing bright green and dancing in spirals around the pin prick stars.

"Northern Lights…"

They gazed in awe, as, above them, the display pulsed across the night.

"That's how I felt.."

Christian took Syed's gloved hand in his.

"…When you kissed me. How I still feel."

"Aw, Christian.." Syed moved closer, pressing against his side.

"If I made things worse, keeping on at you, forcing you to love me.."

"I loved you the moment you walked into the unit and I made that pathetic joke, like a schoolgirl with a boy she fancies. I may not have admitted it to myself at the time, though. When you nearly broke my hand in that grip.. I could have said 'Phwooar' out loud, but I doubt if it would have gone down too well.."

"Should I have taken no for an answer though? I just worry sometimes, when you're sad, that I've made your life difficult, that you regret not choosing your family.."

Syed unfastened the front of Christian's coat and wrapped it around them both, nestling beneath it, laying his head against his chest.

"Where's all this come from? You made me live. What life was I leading, pretending to be something I wasn't? Hating myself for the way I had been created?"

"You lost so much. The things I did, telling your Mother, everyone.."

"And gained so much more. We both behaved appallingly at times. And even if you had taken no for an answer, I still would have kept coming back, kept running away again, until your poor brain would be so fried you'd have hated me…"

Christian rested his chin on Syed's head and watched the green lights dance above them.

"I'd never have hated you. I might have given it all the talk, swanned around, pretended I didn't care. But you touched me Sy, in my soul. I would have had nothing to give anyone else, because I was yours."

"Are mine." Syed laid cold lips against Christian's, murmuring;

"And forgive me for ruining the mood, but I'm freezing my bollocks off…"


	9. Chapter 9

Syed knew from the set of Christian's shoulders that he had taken on his own unhappiness and it was weighing heavily upon him. He watched him as he carefully took off his suit jacket, hanging it neatly away, absentmindedly smoothing down imaginary creases before he hooked the hanger over the pole, the faint metal ring the only sound in their hotel room.

"Have we got any paper?"

Christian looked round with a start.

"Sorry? Miles away…"

"I can see. Paper. Is there any?"

Christian pulled open a drawer in the small bureau and pointed to the pad, headed with the hotel's name and address.

"There. Do you want my pen?"

Syed nodded, following him with his eyes as he searched around in the side pocket of their hand luggage.

"Here you go, babe. Are you planning what we're doing tomorrow?"

"Already in here." Syed tapped the side of his head. "I'm taking your advice."

Christian sat on the end of the bed, and eyed him suspiciously.

"That must be a first. What did I tell you to do? Oh, that..."

"I can't bear to see you so worried about me. Truly, I'm not unhappy, It just sometimes, being disowned, it plays upon my mind…"

"It would. On anyone's. It makes me feel useless, powerless to help you…"

Syed settled himself into the small chrome backed chair and clicked the end of the biro.

"I have to help myself. Reconcile this for myself. I owe it to you."

Christian looked at Syed's slight figure, hunched over the blank paper, tongue thoughtfully between his teeth. He stood slowly and headed towards the bathroom, placing his hand tenderly on Syed's hair as he passed.

"You owe me nothing. I'll be in the bath. Join me when you're done.."

Syed heard the gush of water, Christian faintly singing 'The way you look tonight' in a mournful, tired voice. He stared intently at the blank white sheet before him, searching through his mind to find the right words to say.

* * *

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I hope you are reading this, I hope you didn't rip it up as soon as you saw my handwriting on the envelope, I hope a lot of things._

_And I miss you._

_Mum, I miss how you looked after me, your humour, your nagging! I miss how you loved me and wanted the best for me, even if what you believed to be in my best interests sometimes wasn't._

_Dad, I miss your friendship, the laughs, your need to be proud of me. And I wish I could have made you proud._

_And together, your love for each other, the home you made for us as children, protecting us from the troubles that I know you went through. Guiding us to live a good life._

_And I want you to know that I do lead a good life. Not that you could ever begin to condone the path I have chosen, but I want you to try and understand._

_I am not so different from you. You were together through love, against your families wishes. Dad, you went through fire for Mum, and Mum, you braved fire for me. I would go through fire for Christian, and he would do the same._

_I realise that you will not want to see his name, or know about our lives together, yet I need to tell you._

_He is not the ogre you presume him to be. He is a man. He did not tempt me, I was already tempted. He did not make me the way I am, he is just a man._

_But he is my man, and I chose to be with him, as you chose to be with each other._

_I tried so hard to be the perfect son you wanted, I would have done all I could, did all I could._

_Those long days when I was cast out for the first time, I yearned to be forgiven, wanted to repay you for the hurt I had caused, was so happy to be allowed to be a part of my family again._

_I do not yearn for forgiveness now, it's not yours to give. I yearn for acceptance._

_If all my plans had worked, if I could have truly loved Amira, any woman, you would have had your perfect son. But it wouldn't have been the one you gave birth to. I would have been a hollow shell, a walking, talking lie. _

_You believe our faith and our community says that I must be dead to you now. If I had lived without Christian, I would be at your table for meals, helping you with the restaurant, fighting with Tambo and playing with Kamil. But I would be dead inside. A fine, upstanding corpse._

_I have made you suffer terribly and you have done the same to me._

_Christian thinks you will one day accept me the way I am, that I need to be patient. I want him to be right, I want his innate belief in goodness to be rewarded, undistorted as it is, in spite of the beatings that I caused him to suffer, both mental and physical. _

_It hurts him that I am sad, and I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not him._

_So I shall try not to be. I will remember happy times and hold them fondly in my heart. When I see you in the street I will remember you tending my grazed knees, cheering at cricket, celebrating my birthday, and I will lock the pain away._

_Always your son,_

_Syed._

* * *

"Christian.."

Syed smiled at the sight of him, fast asleep in the cooling water, cheek pressed against the cold enamel side of the bath.

"Christian…"

"Mmmm?"

"Get out now, it's time for bed."

Syed pulled out the plug and held out one of the hotel's fluffy white dressing gowns.

"Here, put this on.."

Christian yawned loudly and obligingly allowed Syed to help him push his arms into the sleeves, stood patiently, barely awake, as he was towelled dry and obediently followed Syed back to the bedroom.

"Early start tomorrow Christian."

"What we doing?"

Syed pressed him gently down onto the bed and pulled the covers over him, tucking them around his chin.

"Skidooing down a glacier."

"Fab…."


	10. Chapter 10

"Shall we get one? Cruise up the High Street in it. We'd need about eight parking spaces though. Sy? Say something.."

Syed took in the sight of Christian, clad in orange, tight fitting thermal overalls, black shades, a crash helmet tucked under his arm, outlined against the stark grey mountains, the Atlantic ocean crashing with white foam far beneath them.

"I can't speak.." He burbled. "You look like an astronaut. Sod the super truck, you have to wear that always.."

Christian chuckled with delight.

"It'd take an age to get off…"

"I don't care. It'll be worth the wait. You think you're going to beat me at this don't you?"

Christian pushed the helmet onto his head and buckled up the chin strap, coming over to make sure that Syed's was securely fastened.

"Do you want me to let you win?"

"Piss off, you patronising git…"

Syed sat into the Skidoo and revved the engine.

"… let battle commence!"

They set off at speed, both laughing maniacally, a wake of ice chips and snow sent flaring out behind them. The freezing air stung their faces, velocity making the blood roar through their veins. Christian accelerated into the lead and looked back at Syed. Through the plume of white, he recognised a look of sheer determination mixed with utter pleasure, and slowed slightly, waiting for him to draw beside him.

"We'll finish together!" He shouted above the buzz if the engines, and in perfect synch, they twisted the throttles and roared side by side to the foot of the glacier.

* * *

Syed lay spread eagled next to his Skidoo, helpless with hilarity. He looked up at Christian, towering over him, beaming down with a smile as broad as the sky.

"You hated that then.."

Syed hiccupped, struggling to speak through his mirth.

"Truly awful. Can we do it again?"

"As many times as you like."

* * *

Christian floated luxuriously in the thick blue waters, steam rising around him, wondering why he was thinking of the ironing.

"Good job I packed your skimpy panties.." Syed wrinkled his nose in disgust at his own choice of words.

"Mmm, this is heaven. What's this water again?"

Christian splashed some idly at Syed.

"Geothermal seawater. It comes out of that power plant…"

The twisted metal tubes of the factory shone silver in the distance, pumping out clouds of vapour.

"They do massages here, don't they? You could pick up some tips. You'll be better than them, obviously."

Syed dipped down, vanishing from sight for a moment, emerging with his hair dripping around his face.

"You're biased. We need to go shopping, before tonight."

"Get Tam an oily jumper?"

"For Mum to boil wash and shrink to fit an Action Man.."

Christian covertly studied Syed's expression at the mention of his mother, he sensed a sea change, a lightening of his tone, and hugged the notion tightly to himself, hoping he wasn't mistaken.

"You're going to have to drag me out. This holiday has made me the cleanest I've ever been.."

"Wallowing around like a Hippo…"

Syed shrieked as Christian grabbed his head and firmly ducked him under.

* * *

"Aw, Petur's brother was lovely!" Christian waggled the carrier bag. "But even with a discount I feel sick at the money we've spent."

Syed grinned ruefully.

"I know. But are you sure your nausea hasn't got more to do with that piece of wind dried shark that you ate?"

"One of us had to, to be polite."

"What did it taste of?"

Christian licked his teeth and made a little moue of disgust.

"What does it still taste of, you mean. I have no words, yes I do, one word. Putrefaction."

"Shall we have some hot chocolate at that nice café?"

"Squirty cream. You hoping your twin admirers might be there?"

Syed frowned.

"Twins of evil, scary!.. Oh, look at this jewellery!"

He pressed his nose up against the glass of the shop window.

"I like those rings."

Christian pointed to a blue velvet tray containing two thick solid silver bands.

"We could get them, I mean, not as…."

Syed stiffened, suddenly shy.

"No, obviously….."

Christian could hear a small shrill voice in his brain shouting; 'Why not?'

"We can't really afford it…"

"Shame… Christian, by a superhuman effort, managed to remain calm and sensible, knowing it wasn't quite time. "..They do engraving too, could have had messages on them."

"Eg elska tig."

Christian thoughtfully tucked a curl of hair behind Syed's ear.

"Please tell me that doesn't mean; 'do you sell haemorrhoid cream?"

"Yes, Christian, that's exactly what it means. It's the only thing I'd ever want engraved on my ring. Oh help me, I'm turning into you…stop sniggering. Lets get a drink then go back to the Hotel, got to get ready for tonight."

"Where are you taking me now? I must say I could get used to this relinquishing of control."

Syed took hold of Christian's sleeve and propelled him up the slippery pavement.

"Until I give you something you don't want to do. Tonight we're going to NASA."

"Isn't that a long way to go for an evening? I suppose we are almost half way to America…"

"Buffoon. It's a club."


	11. Chapter 11

Syed balked at the entrance to the club, the transition from the freezing cold night to the hot glare of the lights made his head hurt. An inbuilt smell of perspiration and alcohol tingled at the back of his throat and made him feel weary.

Christian looked around, hoping that Syed wouldn't sense his initial disappointment.

"It's huge! Three floors!"

'Bit empty..' He kept the thought to himself, sensing that this night had been planned purely for his benefit.

A few people were mooching around the bar area, the dance floor remained eerily deserted and the sound system rumbled faintly in the background, as powerful as a radio.

"Drink?"

Christian took his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and flicked through the notes.

"I suppose we'll have to take out a small mortgage to pay for them, but, yes please."

"Orange juice?"

Syed grinned mischievously.

"Ah, well, as it's a bit of a party, I'll have a coke. Full fat."

Christian leaned across the bar and caught the attention of the bored girl behind it. She slowly put down the glass she had been listlessly polishing for the last half an hour and mooched over.

"Get ég hjálpað þér?"

Christian hazarded a guess that she had offered to help him and pointed to the bottles behind the bar.

"Beer, please, and coke.."

Her smile became less fixed at the sound of his accent.

"Sure, no problem…"

Christian handed over the Euro's and waited as she counted out some change.

"Is it always this dead?"

She laughed sweetly.

"Alcohol is very expensive here…" She winked at him, "…But you just wait.."

They found a table on the first floor balcony in a dark corner, Christian trying to fathom out the meaning of the girl's cryptic comment.

"Wait for what Sy?"

Syed sipped at his drink, glad that the sugar was starting to perk him up.

"A bus? Godot?"

"Ha, funny. I hope people start dancing soon. I feel like I'm at a working man's club.."

Seeing Syed's face fall, he quickly added;

"But I like men, working ones, unemployed ones.. I'm making this worse aren't I?"

"Keep digging. The guide book said it was good. Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Nah, It's got beer, it's got music, not that I can hear it, but best of all, it's got you.

Tell me about that mad bloke on your course, the one with the poodle…."

Syed did, making Christian giggle at tales of the man insisting that his pet dog was psychic, until, three drinks later, Christian realised he could no longer catch what Syed was saying without leaning across the table.

He glanced over the balcony and recoiled.

"Woah! Where the bloody hell did they all come from?"

The club was heaving, men and women thronged at the once deserted bar, their chatter raucous and lively. The dance floor that Christian wouldn't have been surprised to see tumbleweed blow across earlier, now heaved with gyrating bodies.

"BETTER FOR YOU?" Syed shouted across to him and Christian gave the thumbs up.

* * *

Pressed by Christian's weight against the wall of the club, Syed felt, rather than heard, him singing along to 'The club can't even handle me right now'. The resonance of the bass throbbed through his chest, making him light headed, a creature of sensations.

Christian grasped his wrists, lifting his arms above his head, pushing him further back. Syed abandoned himself to the long hard kiss, the thrust of Christian's groin into his own. Flashing coloured lights filtering through his closed eyelids, transporting him to the night sky outside the Pearl.

Finally coming up for air, Christian yelled;

"I NEED A PEE. WILL YOU BE ALRIGHT?"

Syed smiled, glad of the solid surface behind him now that his knees had turned to jelly. He held Christian's hand for as long as he could, until their fingers slipped apart and he was engulfed by the crowds, vanishing from sight.

* * *

The familiar drumbeats and sound of a male voice choir made Christian laugh as he emerged from the gents.

'Ha Ha! Going all retro..'

He returned to the place he had left Syed, but he had disappeared. Hunting through the bobbing heads of the dancers, he decided that Syed had probably gone to look for him, and turned to retrace his steps. Preparing to barge his way through the mass of people, he glanced up and saw Syed.

His white shirt was open to the waist, and, flanked by the twins from the café, both in matching muscle vests, he was dancing on top of a speaker stack.


	12. Chapter 12

Christian waited in the shadows until the track segued into another, then, stepping out to the base of the speaker stack, he held up his arms to lift Syed down.

He bustled him over to a quieter area by the bar, looking him up and down in amazement.

"Syed Masood!"

Syed tried to do his shirt up, his hot fingers slipping on the buttons.

"I'm really sorry Christian, they made me, dragged me off. I tried to say no, but the next thing I knew I was being hoisted…."

Christian placed a finger firmly against Syed's lips, silencing him.

"I'm shocked. Stone cold sober and dancing with wild abandon to The Pet Shop Boys.."

Syed looked at his boots and muttered;

"Yeah, well, the song seemed right, somehow…. I'm sorry.."

"Red Letter Day? I suppose it does."

Christian chuckled, smoothing Syed's sweat drenched hair away from his forehead.

"And don't you dare be sorry. You looked beautiful, euphoric. Seeing you, all undone, a marvellous wanton trollop, your eyes big as saucers, I had to get you down. Didn't want those boys getting ideas.."

"Hinrik and Haraldur? They're sweet. Creepy, but sweet."

Christian laughed.

"Oh are they now? Do you want me to put you back up there?"

Running his finger down the front of Christian's Tee shirt, Syed blinked innocently.

"Only if you take that off and come with me…."

* * *

"Shattered.."

Christian threw himself backwards onto the bed, sending pillows and cushions flying.

"Don't squash the chocolate!"

Syed searched around on the floor and picked up one of the sweets that the Hotel left each day. Unwrapping it from the gold foil, he put it in his mouth and climbed across to Christian, mumbling;

"Half for me.."

Christian bit slowly, letting his lips brush against Syed's with the lightest of touches.

"And half for me.."

They lay beside each other, arms entwined. Christian could feel Syed's pulse fluttering through his skin.

"The letter helped then."

He rolled over and put his face close to Syed's, smelling the sugar on his breath.

"Yes. I rather think it has.."

"Will you send it?"

Syed wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, pondering if he ever could.

"Hmm, Dunno."

"Do you want me to look after it?"

Syed raised his eyebrows in alarm.

"Fuck no! You might post it by accident, or as a good idea.. You want to read it, don't you?"

Christian thoughtfully rubbed the stubble on his jaw.

"Yes, because I'm nosy, and no, because it's personal to you.."

Propping himself up on one elbow, Syed began to idly run his fingers along Christian's neck.

"You can read it if you want. I have no secrets from you. Well, tiny ones, the Minute Mart hadn't really run out of that Isotonic stuff, I just forgot to get it.."

"Git. I don't need to read it. Just seeing how you've been today, unburdened, without that shadow at your shoulder."

"I do feel better, more positive. No idea how long it will last when we get back, but, right now. I feel on top of the world. It's down to you, you know.."

Christian smiled, turning to kiss Syed's wrist.

"Is it? Do I get a reward?"

"I could practise my course work on you.."

"Go on then.."

Christian undressed, peeling off each layer slowly, aware that Syed was watching his every move. Lying back down, he pulled Syed's shirt from him and unzipped his jeans, helping Syed to kick them away.

"Lie on your front."

Syed looked at the fading red marks his own nails had left and ran his tongue down each one, covering them with saliva. He twisted his leg across Christian's body, sitting astride him and pushing into his muscles with long sweeping strokes.

"Do you do extras?" Christian's voice was muffled by the bedsheets.

"For my special clients.."

Syed kneaded along the side of Christian's spine, freeing the tension, feeling him turn to putty under his hands.

"Am I a special client?"

"The most special."

Syed traced with his fingers, spelling out a message onto Christian's back.

He repeated it aloud as each movement finished

."E.G. E.L.S.K.A. T.I.G."

Christian laughed with joy, flexing suddenly, tipping Syed off balance and sitting up to wrestle him into an embrace.

"No. But Boots might. I love you too Sy. Where do you want me now?"

Syed closed his eyes, shivering with pleasure, and murmured into the hollow of Christian's throat;

"Inside me."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Again, so very many thanks for reading and reviewing. I am truly grateful. :) :) :)_**

**_It's a while since I last visited Iceland, so forgive me for some poetic license! I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope I got them right, love to you all, MH xxxxxxxxx_**

* * *

"Working yourself up into a big state isn't going to make us get home any quicker."

Syed stated calmly, screwing up the empty crisp packet and licking salt from his fingers.

Christian kicked rhythmically at the side of the metal bench.

"It's crap Sy. How come in Iceland, in three foot of snow, everyone just goes about their business? No whingeing, people work, go to school. A bit of fog at Heathrow and we get diverted to Paris."

"There's worse places to be sent to. Stop kicking the seat Christian, you're giving me a headache."

Christian sulkily sat down beside him and pointed to the packet.

"Have you finished those?"

"Mmm.."

"Didn't save me any. Can I pop the bag?"

Syed, his patience wearing thin, pursed his lips.

"No you can't and I'll buy you some more. It's going to be ages yet, our bags are on a plane, or revolving around a carousel somewhere, with the embarrassing bow flapping limp and forgotten…"

"Aw, you've made me feel sad for our luggage. Shall we go for a walk?"

"Let me see if I can find anyone that knows something about anything.."

Syed patted Christian's thigh as he stood, surveying the busy airport lounge. Locating the sign that read 'Information' he set off in the direction of the arrow, waggling his fingers behind him as Christian shouted;

"Good luck!"

* * *

Syed laughed as he approached Christian. Slumped down, legs stuck out in front of him, arms tightly crossed with his chin resting on his chest, he looked the epitome of grumpiness.

"Oi! Misery guts!"

Syed tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?"

"A very nice lady told me we've got at least three hours. Lets go to Paris…"

* * *

Gazing up at the Eiffel Tower, small clouds racing across the pale grey winter sky above it, dry leaves rustling at their feet, Syed slipped his hand into Christian's.

"Shall we go to the top?"

Christian smiled down at him.

"Have you never been?"

"Nope. I came on a school trip, but I got sick and had to wait in the minibus."

"Poor thing. We should send Michael a postcard, tell him it's our cock.."

"Have we only got the one between us then? A communal cock."

Christian grinned.

"What's mine is yours. Why do people still send postcards I wonder? When you can just send a photo from your phone?"

"I don't know. I guess he hasn't got our phone numbers. The address on it was pretty vague too, but my dad could have easily worked it out."

"Was it? What did it say?"

"Chryed, above Beale's chippy, Albert Square."

Christian let out a short delighted laugh.

"Ha! Chryed! I like that. It's a port thingy name.."

"Talbot?" Syed suggested helpfully.

"Manteau. Portmanteau. You and me combined."

Syed stuck out his lower lip huffily.

"I don't know why your name had to go first…"

"Systian? It sounds like a disease of the urinary tract. Young Michael's going up in my estimation.."

"You fancy him."

"You do."

"No, you do…"

Christian linked arms with Syed and they set off squabbling towards the entrance to the tower.

* * *

"I wonder if we can see Walford from here?"

Syed leant excitedly against the barrier, scanning across the panorama of roofs, the silver sparkle of the Seine.

"On a clear day you can see the Minute Mart, and Patrick's hat.."

"Hilarious. Are you looking forward to being home?"

Christian sensed a hint of trepidation in Syed's question, an innate fear that all his newly recovered happiness might evaporate on the platform of Walford tube station. And he realised that it scared him too, he wanted joy for Syed, a life without pain. He quietly answered;

"It will be fine."

Syed felt the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket dig against his chest. He touched it pensively, pulling it out and holding it in his hand.

"It will be fine.." Christian repeated, moving nearer. Standing close beside him, without touching, waiting to hold him.

Syed began to tear at the paper, ripping it into tiny pieces, throwing it like confetti onto the cool west wind.

They watched as the tiny flakes fluttered away, spiralling and dancing like the snow in Iceland, until all traces had disappeared.

The weak sun reflecting from the iron girders behind Syed, coloured the eyes that met Christian's to a burning gold.

"Yes. And one day soon, I will tell them everything. I will say it to their faces."


End file.
